


'cause baby it's a primetime for our love

by felicities



Category: Actor RPF, American Gods RPF
Genre: F/F, implied chenzel, implied gillovny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 15:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10879791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicities/pseuds/felicities
Summary: "How was it like working with Gillian Anderson?""The. Best. Ever. We get each other."





	'cause baby it's a primetime for our love

**Author's Note:**

> this is fiction.

**August 2016. Toronto, Canada.**

 

“You sure you guys don’t need a ride back to the hotel?" Ricky asks, tailing behind the rest of the cast plus Bryan, all of them visibly intoxicated.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Kristin says, turning to Gillian with hooded eyes and a smirk. “Won’t we?”

 

“Mhm,” Gillian winks at her, her fingers closing around Kristin’s wrist to lead her back to the bar. “More drinks.”

 

“Bye Whittle!” Kristin chirps as Gillian pulls her away. She nearly stumbles but finds her balance quickly, her right arm wrapping around Gillian’s waist to keep from falling completely.

 

The two women are silent until they get their drinks; Gillian turns to Kristin and eyes her as she sips her gin tonic.

 

“Whatcha starin’ ‘me for,” Kristin mumbles.

 

Gillian smirks. “You’re such a lightweight.”

 

“Shut up! I’m 4’11”! You're not that much taller.”

 

“Exactly, and I have high tolerance.”

 

Kristin makes a raspberry noise, which in the moment Gillian finds highly hilarious, because she almost tips the stool backwards, laughing.

 

“Be careful!”

 

“I am, _mom_.”

 

“Oh hushhhhh.”

 

“Drunkie.”

 

“Klutz.”

 

“ _I’m_ the klutz? Aren’t you the one who keeps falling down stairs and in orchestra pits?”

 

“Been keepin’ tabs on me, huh?” Kristin squints at her, lifting her chin in the air.

 

Gillian doesn’t say anything, returning to her drink.

 

After a few moments, Kristin breaks the silence. “Is it true you and David hated each other?”

 

Gillian smiles, but looks straight ahead. “Nah,” she says. “We just fucked each other, off and on.”

 

"Gillian Leigh Anderson! Your _language_." Kristin reprimands mockingly, taking a sip of her martini.

 

"H’ddaya know my full name?"

 

“Wonderful thing called the internet.”

 

“Googling me, huh?”

 

“You're not the only one keeping tabs on their costar,” Kristin says, winking at her.

 

Gillian smiles at her, mildly surprised, terribly amused. “Well?”

 

“Well what?”

 

“What about you, little miss prim and proper?”

 

“Wha’ ‘bout me?”

 

“Is it true you and Idina hated each other?”

 

Kristin’s silent for a few moments, then brings her drinks to her lips, eyes locking with Gillian over the glass. “Nah. We just fucked each other, off and on,” Kristin says, mirroring Gillian's words from moments before.

 

Gillian exaggerates a gasp, though most of her shock was genuine. "You of all people…"

 

Kristin smirks at her. “Google doesn’t always have everything.”

 

“What’s all that shit with that Sorkin fellow then?” Gillian asks, the inebriation bringing out her accent, making it more noticeable than usual.

 

“I'm impressed.”

 

“With what?”

 

“With your Chenowethian knowledge,” Kristin says, taking a sip of her drink.

 

Gillian bursts into laughter, nearly knocking over Kristin’s purse off the table.  “I’ve… noticed you,” Gillian says, suddenly serious, her voice low, eyes trying to meet Kristin’s. “So what’s the deal?”

 

“Eh,” Kristin scoffs, looking behind Gillian’s shoulder. “He’s an ass.”

 

Gillian shrugs.

 

“And flaming gay.”

 

“Like you?”

 

“M _hm_! So we both got a lil somethin’ out of that ‘relationship.’”

 

“Well done, Chenoweth,” Gillian beams, slow clapping for her drinking companion.

 

“Thank you! Thank _you_ ,” Kristin says, her voice louder than usual. “Acting _is_ what I do for a living, after all.” She stands, moves into a bow, and almost falls over.

 

“You are _so_ drunk.”

 

“I am _so_ gay.”

 

“I repeat: you are _so_ drunk.”

 

“Oh bartender…” Kristin sing-songs, batting her eyelashes at the cute guy serving their drinks.

 

“His name’s Trent.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“She’s been a regular here the whole week,” Trent interjects, sliding another martini towards Kristin.

 

She gasps. “So that’s where you go at night,” she says, turning to Gillian. “Why don’t you bring me?” Kristin pouts, and Gillian can’t help but kiss her protruding lips, pink and soft and glistening and only inches away.

 

“I’ll bring you next time.”

 

“So there’s gonna be a next time?” Kristin asks, her voice dropping an octave. she moves her free hand to Gillian’s thigh, running slow, soft strokes along its length.

 

“Mm…” is all Gillian replies — is all Gillian _can_ reply — and her eyes flutter shut.

 

“What was that?” Kristin says, her hand continuing the motion.

 

“I—”

 

“Hm?” Kristin’s hands move higher. She’s abandoned her drink and is inching closer and closer to Gillian.

 

“Kristin…”

 

“Shh,” she whispers, her lips touching the shell of Gillian’s ear. “I’ve noticed you too.”

 

“Whu…”

 

“You remind me of Idina, y’know.” Kristin’s hands are now on Gillian’s hips, slipping under shirt. Gillian inhales sharply, her breaths becoming quicker at the feel of Kristin’s warm fingertips on her stomach, her nails occasionally grazing the soft skin underneath them.

 

“I’ve a sneakin’ suspicion that if I do this—" Kristin continues, her other hand moving to Gillian's inner thigh, squeezing the flesh barely covered by her skirt, "—your breath’ll catch in your throat, just like hers does.”

 

Gillian does exactly that, before managing a breathy ‘Kris.’

 

“Just. like. that,” Kristin says, her fingers pressing harder into Gillian’s skin, punctuating each word.

 

“Kristin.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re feeling me up in a fucking bar in Canada.”

 

“M _hm_.”

 

Gillian finally opens her eyes. Kristin is staring at her lips under hungry lashes. “Kristin.”

 

“Come back to the hotel with me,” Kristin whispers, pressing soft kisses along Gillian’s jaw.

 

Gillian pulls away, grabbing her purse and hurriedly fishing out a few bills before throwing them on the counter. She takes Kristin’s hands, pulling the blonde with her towards the exit.

 

The ride to the hotel is a quiet one, the tension crackling in the air. Gillian rests a hand on Kristin’s thigh, her thumb caressing honeyed skin. When Kristin spots a familiar diner a block away from where they’re staying, she lays a hand on Gillian’s, turning it to entwine their fingers together. Feeling braver, she shifts to kiss Gillian’s neck, feeling her pulse beating rapidly beneath her warm lips.

 

“Kristin…”

 

Kristin releases Gillian’s hand to cup the back of her head, pressing her closer. Gillian tilts her head, trying to capture Kristin’s lips, but the blonde seems intent on leaving a mark on Gillian’s pulse point.

 

Defeated, Gillian turns to her right instead, giving Kristin more access to her neck, but her moan is cut off when the cab driver clears his throat.

 

They pull apart slowly. Kristin digs into her purse for cash. She hears Gillian breathing heavily next to her, and she’s so turned on she’s shivering.

 

She pays the driver, telling him to keep the change the same time Gillian flings the door open and pulls Kristin out with her.

 

When they reach the doors to the hotel Kristin stops in her tracks and lets go of Gillian’s hand. “Gillian,” she says softly.

 

Gillian turns around, worry on her face. “Have you changed your mind?”

 

“What? Hell no. It’s just— people might see. Act normally, okay?”

 

“You mean I can’t kiss you senseless in the middle of a hotel lobby in Toronto?”

 

“Are you goin’ smartass on me right now?”

 

Gillian’s eyes have a glint of mischief. “Does it turn you on?”

 

“Gillian.”

 

She laughs. “Come on, I won’t hold your hand.”

 

They are barely inside the lobby when a fan stops both of them, asking if she and her friend can have a photo. Gillian says yes, shooting Kristin an apologetic look, but Kristin plasters on one of her smiles and barely makes it through the next thirty seconds of inane gushing and flailing.

 

When they get to the elevators, Kristin remembers to text Seph not to wait up for her. She presses 7 instead of her 9, and Gillian is impressed by her boldness.

 

“My, my, Chenoweth.”

 

Looking around for cameras and finding none, Kristin lunges herself at Gillian, pinning her to the wall. “Shut up,” she whispers between kisses, her hands sliding down Gillian's sides. Gillian moans, pushing the blonde off when she hears the elevator bell ring.

 

They manage to look presentable before the doors open, a younger couple entering, too drunk, thankfully, to recognise whom they were sharing the elevator with.

 

They keep a distance between them the rest of the ride up; Gillian takes her heels off and walks barefoot through the halls. Kristin staggers behind her, holding onto her arm to keep her upright.

 

“Just take off your damn heels.”

 

“I look hotter in them.”

 

“Yeah, you do,” Gillian whispers, backing Kristin against the nearest wall.

 

“Not here.”

 

“Ugh.” Gillian continues making her way down the hall to her suit, Kristin following in zigzags.

 

She stops at a door, staring at it.

 

“Open it.”

 

“I dun’ remember where my keycard is.”

 

“Your purse.”

 

“I dun’ remember where that is either.”

 

“It’s in your hands.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The moment they’re on the other side of the door, greedy hands tear off clothes, fumbling over buttons, sliding down zippers. All Kristin will remember, for weeks to come, is Gillian’s scent — woody, and flowery, and spicy, and vanilla-y all at once — and the taste of her mouth, the feel of her hands on her spine, the look in her eyes as she climaxed.

 

—

  


Kristin wakes up. She rolls onto her other side, her cheek brushing Gillian’s arm. She’s on her phone, scrolling through Twitter.

 

“Hey,” Kristin says, kissing Gillian’s bicep.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Time is it.”

 

“4:28.”

 

“Early.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Headache.”

 

“Poor baby.” Gillian adjusts her and Kristin’s positions into something more comfortable, her arms around Kristin, the blonde pressing her body into Gillian’s side.

 

“Whasson Twitter right now?”

 

“Not much. Political bullshit, as per usual.”

 

“Eugh.” Kristin turns over to get her own phone, squinting at the bright screen. Her wallpaper is a photo of her and Maddie, taken during her run of _On the Twentieth Century_. “I miss Maddie,” she says softly, voice weak and sad.

 

“Aw, darling.” Gillian moves to kiss her on the temple, then presses her cheek to Kristin, peering over her nose to look at her phone. “Can I see pictures of her?”

 

“‘Course.”

 

They go through Kristin’s camera roll, Kristin giving context to each photo. Gillian chuckles softly every now and then, endeared by the blonde’s stories. Kristin accidentally flips to a photo of Idina making kissy faces at the small Maltese in her lap.

 

“That was my birthday this year,” Kristin says, answering Gillian’s unasked question. “We were in the same city. Happens so rarely.”

 

“What happened between you two?”

 

“Too complicated.”

 

“If you tell me about her I’ll tell you ‘bout David.”

 

“Ooh, I love me a good gossip. Deal.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. But… not now.”

 

“Oh,” Gillian says, trying to mask her disappointment.

 

“I have other things on my mind,” Kristin says, pushing herself up on her arms to hover over Gillian.

 

“Do you now?” Gillian smiles.

 

“Mhmm. And it involves a lot of kissing.”

 

“Nice.”

 

Kristin presses her lips to Gillian’s, feather-light, before peppering quick, soft kisses on her chin, her neck, her sternum.

  


—

  


Sunlight bleeds through the white curtains of the room. Kristin opens her eyes, bleary from sleep, and feels a rustling near her feet.

 

Gillian’s sitting on the edge of the bed in her underwear, all attention focused on her phone.

 

“‘Morning,” Kristin says.

 

Gillian turns around, and smiles. “Good morning.”

 

“What time do you have to be on set?”

 

“Half an hour.”

 

Kristin sits up and moves closer to Gillian, kissing her shoulder.

 

“How about you?”

 

“Dunno yet,” she says, her lips moving down Gillian’s back, trailing her spine.

 

“Kristin…”

 

“What?” Kristin asks innocently, even as she continues to leave kisses on Gillian’s back, Gillian’s shoulderblades.

 

“Call time is in thirty minutes.”

 

“We can do it in five.”

 

“Confident, are we?” Gillian turns around, catching Kristin’s lips in a kiss.

 

When they pull apart, Kristin's eyes are still closed, lips glistening.

 

“I’ll see you later.”

 

“Fine, leave me,” Kristin exaggerates, flopping to the bed with the back of her hand on her forehead.

 

“Drama queen.” Gillian walks to her suitcase, extracting a shirt and some leggings.

 

“That’s why I’m here.”

 

Once dressed, Gillian takes one last look at herself in the mirror and gathers her hair in a ponytail. She moves back to the bed, kissing Kristin on the cheek.

 

“See you later,” she says again. She walks to the door. "We can have lunch and you can tell me all about Idina.”

 

Kristin rolls her eyes, scoffing at Gillian. “And you’ll tell me all about David.”

 

“Mhm,” Gillian says, closing the door behind her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this almost immediately after seeing [kristin's tweet](https://twitter.com/KChenoweth/status/785963896553308160) last year, and debated with myself many a time whether or not to post it at all, because weird/rare/irl pairing, etc, but like, i'm WHATEVER now. i'm hella pumped for their scenes on american gods and i am praying to the universe that the ["moment where they have a moment"](https://lucyinthetv.tumblr.com/post/159754251626/easter-who-only-appears-three-or-four-times-in) is a moment where they put their lips on each other's lips and make the fuck out.
> 
> title from _primetime_ by janelle monae


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